


Control

by shellalana



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 17:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellalana/pseuds/shellalana
Summary: Jack makes a visit to one of his favourite experiments but ends up in an undesirable and unexpected situation.





	Control

It wasn't every day that Jack found time to pay a visit to the laboratories out in the Preserve to personally see how the experiments were coming. And by "found time," it was more delegation of his duties in regards to paperwork. It was boring, uninspiring work that only served to tie up the legal ends of his projects... the ones he cared to follow, anyway. He called it expediency; he wasn't here to read, he was here to make money and earn power. And he was out to make as much of it as possible while he still had breath. Though he aimed to make that forever.

"Ha! Look at this drooling mess." Jack shoved another handful of chips into his face as he watched the hulking, bruised mass of walking muscles slumped in the corner of his somewhat pristine white room. He'd forgotten on his way to the lab what this little project was about, having barely skimmed any of the paperwork. The woman in charge of it, whose name he didn't care to remember, had to remind him and even then he was too distracted by the sight of the rippling psycho to commit any of that to memory either. He cocked his feet up on the control panel and indulged in more of his greasy snack. The scientist glowered at him before "politely" moving his legs out of the way of some very important buttons.

"What can you make him do?" he mumbled around the mouthful of food.

"As of right now? Nothing. We don't want to push him too far. He's still adjusting to the eridium, and we don't want him... expiring like the others."

"Does he look anywhere close to dead to you?" He gestured at the tempered one-way glass, flinging greasy chip crumbs all over the console. "You idiots must be doing something right."

The scientist leaned over and wiped the mess off the glass with the back of her sleeve. The console she'd work on after he left. What she wouldn't do to smack that bag of chips out of his hands...

"Have you at least try giving him commands or anything?"

"Like I said, he's not-"

"Oh for Pete's sakes..." he discarded the rest of the bag to the ground and bolted out of the chair. How did these idiots manage to get hired if they couldn't accomplish the simplest task? "Do I have to do everything myself around here?"

Jack tugged on the door handle, but it refused to yield.

"What's wrong with this infernal door??!"

"... the card swipe, sir," the scientist called out over her shoulder as she tried to minimize the damage of his mess on her equipment. She believed that that would be enough to get him out of her hair... but she heard the impatient tapping of his sneaker against the floor. Glancing back, she found him standing there, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you forget your keycard, sir?"

"Uh, nooo, I own this place. There's no reason I should be opening the door myself. Come on, chop chop."

She pinched her brows together as she extracted the keycard from her pocket, swiped it through the mag stripe, and heard the thunk of the lock coming undone. She couldn't wait to go home and get shitfaced drunk so she could forget about today.

But her worries weren't quite yet over.

"Uh, the door?"

"Sir?"

"Open. It," he spoke through gritted teeth, practically fuming that she hadn't read his mind.

The scientist was glad that she was wearing her goggles or else he would've caught wind of her eye roll and sent her to the airlock. She yanked it open, keeping a grip on her temper, and slammed it behind him once he was through.

Screw waiting around, she thought. The end of her shift was over, and her replacement for the night was notorious for being late. She quickly checked over her experiments, hung up her coat, and headed home to spend a romantic evening with an expensive bottle of wine. Someone else could take care of the discarded chips on the floor.

Jack clicked his tongue when he realized the scientist hadn't followed him and slid his keycard through the reader, deciding that she’d likely stayed behind to monitor the situation from the observation room. The heavy bolts thunked open, granting him access to the quarantine room just next to the psycho's cell. A row of hazmat suits hung against one wall, while the shelf on another was littered with syringes, empty specimen containers... and a tranq gun that looked quite enticing. It would be stupid of him to go in there without some kind of protection, more than the pistol he had at his hip. Jack tested the weapon to see if it was loaded. A hefty dart pinged off the metal ceiling overhead and the half-empty vial smashed against the ground on its re-entry. Not bad. With any luck, he wouldn't have to use it.

"Good morning, princess. You're looking a little glum today," he said as he finally entered the padded room. Old blood smears stained the floor, and the room reeked of the stuff with a hint of eridium that tickled his nose. He spun the gun around his finger as he neared, content with the state of the experiment so far.

The large man's eyes stared off into the nothingness, drool hanging from his bottom lip. His body was littered with scars and bruises, some green with age, others still a bright new purple. His nose was broken, bent to one side, and Jack was sure that half of one ear was missing. Self-inflicted or a result of a scuffle, Jack didn't know. Or care. The "project" had definitely seen better days, and Jack felt a sense of pride that he'd been able to reduce such a man to a base animal.

"How about we perk you up a little." He retrieved a little remote from his pocket and wiggled it before the man's dead eyes. If nothing else could get a response out of him, the collar around his neck definitely would. It responded with a buzz at his press of the plain grey button. From the man, however, there was nothing. The joy in Jack's eyes faded to disappointment, then rage.

"Don't tell me this stupid thing is broken." He smashed the button again and again. Still no response. He wheeled around and stormed towards the viewing window, situated high in the room, and threw the remote right at it. It bounced of dully and clattered against the floor.

"Hey! Come down here and take a look at this!" he yelled at the unknowingly empty room. His temper flared even more when he didn't get an answer. "Hey! Dipshit! Are you even listening??!"

* * *

 

Empty. The voices were empty. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard such silence. Peace. Save for the black ring burning around his neck, there was a quiet he hadn’t heard in a long time. Addled with chemicals and drugs and whatever they put inside him always brought a noise that made his teeth scream. But for the moment, it was serene.

Then the man in yellow had brought the fire. Alone and seemingly unprotected. The others knew to keep their distance with those baggy white costumes and the sticks of fire they prodded him with. But he had nothing. Just that fancy outfit that would look oh so pretty covered in his own blood.

He smiled. Lunged. Caught the man’s neck in one of his hands and rolled with his weight to the ground. He barely had a chance to croak, the man’s eyes bulging with surprise at his experiment taking him down with such speed. The man in yellow, professing his grip on so much power, was crumpling beneath him and it was heartwarming to know that even men like him could still be toppled.

That infernal device with the button was much too far for the man in yellow to reach, much too far to save himself from the blood that bubbled in his veins. Drool coated his toothy grin as he smiled and undid his fingers, one by one, from around the man’s neck. A squeeze was all that it would take to end things.

But that would leave him alone again, and the screams would return. No, he needed the peace and quiet the man in yellow brought with him.

“Burn burn burn burn that pretty mask off, gouge out your eyes with your teeth!”

“Get the fuck off me, you animal!” he screamed back, his voice hoarse as he rubbed his throat. The starbursts of bruises around his neck made Krieg’s heart flutter; the touch of a lover, a mark he intended to refresh anew before he was done with him.

He was about to get a closer look at them when a pain blossomed from the middle of Krieg’s chest. He looked down to find a dart protruding from his skin. With a growl, he plucked it free and tossed it over his shoulder. He knew what those damn things could do and hated the aftereffects. For the moment, however, he was spurred on by his anger and hatred of the man to notice any sign of the drugs taking effect. He grabbed for the man’s wrist and twisted it, the tendons and bones straining to the point of almost-breaking underneath his grip. The man in yellow winced in pain and the offending weapon fell limply out of his hand. Krieg smiled, believing that to be the end of his troubles.

Until he saw the man reaching for his gun. His eyes widened, knowing that this was no simple means to put him to sleep. Rather, it could end his life. And despite all the torture he’d endured so far, he wasn’t interested in leaving this mortal coil quite yet.

Krieg snatched at the pistol, his large fingers clawing around the man’s so tight, there was no way he could pull the trigger himself. That last ounce of pride bravado was gone, and Krieg swore he felt the man shivering in his grip. So much for being cocky.

A small squeak escaped the man as Krieg squeezed a little tighter, and then a yelp of pain when he felt the fingers break beneath his grip. The man’s shattered hand fell away. The psycho tapped the butt of the killing weapon against his own temple, tempted to drive one round through him just to hear him scream some more… but decided against it. He didn’t want to risk his fun ending too early.

Suddenly, the metal bludgeoning tool connected with the back of Jack’s head and splintered stars in his eyes. The hit turned his knees to jelly beneath him, but he knew he needed to get out, knew that if he remained in here any longer, his little project would have no qualms about ripping him apart, limb from limb.

And that was just a stupid way to die.

He felt the large fingers digging into his scalp as he was grabbed by the head, the large psycho pulling him away from the door and throwing him across the room like a simple rag doll. Jack skidded across the ground and collided against the far wall. Anger stirred in him - how dare someone treat him like this! - and he desperately pushed himself to his feet to attempt an escape. Perhaps if he could reason with the man-

Krieg delighted in the wheezy gasp that escaped the man’s chest from his fist finding his ribs and sending him crashing down to the ground again. The man’s eyes bulged and watered, and if he wasn’t so eager to drag this out for as long as possible, he would have plucked them free and saved them in his pocket for a rainy day. A commemoration of the time they would be spending together.

Despite all that, however, the man in yellow continued to fight. Continued to fling his raspy swears. Krieg didn't care; his struggles spurred him on, lit the fire in his belly. He would wash out his mouth when the time came. A quick punch to his face covered the wall in a spray of blood, his nose clearly broken. _Good_. That gave Krieg more to work with. He curled his fingers in the man's hair and dragged it through the blood, smearing it around in a macabre pattern of streaks and swirls that made Krieg smile. _Maybe this would make Mother proud._

He pressed the man’s face to the wall to muffle him as he ripped his pants down to his ankles. The fabric tore, hanging from him in threads. A terrified grunt was all that escaped him with his face trapped against the padded surface. He huffed and hyperventilated, his limbs twisting to get out of the psycho’s grip. His pride was getting the better of him, and Krieg knew he needed to put him back in his place. This was _his_ domain, _his_ rules.

He kicked away what remained of the jeans and took hold of the man’s wrist, twisting it painfully behind his back once more until he felt the muscles strain against the socket. The other sought the skin beneath the shirt and pawed at it, almost like a kitten. It was soft, and Krieg purred to himself in delight as he ruined it with his nails, clawing long red trenches along his skin. The man in yellow’s screams were beautiful, almost romantic, and it stirred Krieg’s loins. He wanted to hear more, he wanted to make him scream louder for him, and dragged his fingers down the man’s back again. He snorted at the smallest hint of blood in the air and drew his tongue along each salty red mark.

“Y-you ffffucking piece of sh-!”

The man’s words were cut off by the sudden heat that pressed against the flesh of his ass. He’d missed the disrobing of his captor, the metal ring of his buckle hitting the floor in his fevered thrashing. The man grew quiet and Krieg felt a tremble wash through his entire body. No, he wanted him to fight, to struggle, just like Krieg did every day in his attempts to get out of here. He wanted the man in yellow to get a taste of fear and hopelessness, to experience what he went through every single day in this fuckhole of a place.

The man swung his legs back, tried to kick Krieg where it hurt the most. Instead, he lost his footing and crumpled to the ground, his bare ass up in the air and his arm twisted back even further. The pain made him scream even louder, and that was all the psycho needed to make his move.

He slammed his length into the man’s entrance, felt the pressure grow but knew that it was only a matter of time. He writhed and flailed, and the heat intensified around him until-! In he slipped and boy was he tight. He doubled over the man in yellow, almost bent him in half as he worked himself deeper into him. Felt the warm blood further lubricating the act. Their thighs slapped together in a heated rhythm that matched Krieg’s ever-increasing heartrate. He watched the man’s ass jiggle against him in waves and dug his fingernails into the soft pale flesh once more. Track marks raised high against his already-reddened skin, joining the rest of the scars he’d already been inflicted with. The rest of him would be ruined too, in time.

A gentle, deep rocking became fevered thrusts, the man slowly opening up to more and more of him until he was buried hilt deep. Krieg bathed in the heat and the irony of the situation. He delighted in the fact that the supposed man with all the power was nothing more than a means to his orgasmic release, a tool to be used and discarded, just as they were grooming the psycho to be. And it would be this moment Krieg would hold in the back of his mind - or what little was left of it by the time they were done with him - whenever they delivered punishment, whether it was through that infernal shock collar or some other means of torture. Because at this moment, he was the only one with the control. The power to kill him here or to let him live with the knowledge that in these few short minutes, the Hyperion science project had _won_.

Another scream tore from the man’s throat as he tried to get away, tried to claw a path across the ground and away from danger. It was a futile effort, but admirable all the same. A hand choked off the rest of his scream. He saw the edges of his face redden then purple, his eyes bulging from what he was being put through.

_Good. Make him suffer as he did you._

He dug his nails into the man’s bony hips and pulled him back onto his length. Felt him splitting open on him, felt the hot blood mixing with his precum, running down his thighs. It was pure bliss, this singular moment that bonded the two together in a shared pain that neither would be able to talk about. Him, from his mind being taken away; the man, out of shame. Krieg had reduced him to a pile of garbage, nothing more than a sex toy for his pleasure. An instant in the man’s life he couldn’t brag about. There would be no parading after tonight. There would be no celebratory champagne to round out the evening. There would be pain and vomit and nightmares and everything the psycho experienced in every minute of every day, both waking and not.

The man's continued cries for help ceased at that moment, as Krieg had his way with him in every position he could twist the man into. He watched the man's brows knit together in guilty ecstasy. Watched his face redden as Krieg stroked his length for him, thumbed at the slit of his head and slicked it with precum. Felt him grow in his palm and played with every inch and vein in his throbbing member. Palmed at the girth underneath and watched the wary wince of caution from the man. Krieg could rip them clean off with just the smallest twist of his wrist. Another possible trophy to keep after he watched him bleed out.

But no, it was much sweeter to watch him suffer like this, helpless and looking oh so vulnerable. His cheeks flushed, his ass slapping against his thighs, his teeth working against his lip to train back that lustful moan that threatened to break through. Krieg knew he wouldn't get _that_ much satisfaction, but there was pleasure in knowing that he was so close to it, that under different conditions, he would have this man twisted around his finger like a plasticine pretzel.

His pride doubled as he felt the flesh in his palm harden, the veins throb, before ejaculate spilled across the man's stomach. Krieg was taken by surprise, having missed the signs of the man's approaching high. The latter was flush from forehead to chest, brows knitted with confusion, embarrassment, and rage that he'd been brought to such a moment by one as low as Krieg himself. That a filthy animal was responsible for inspiring such an intimate response out of him, for seeing him in such a private moment that he shared with so few.

And didn't care one iota. There would be no soothing words, no whispered nothings to gauge his state of mind. There would be no caressing hands to ensure he'd enjoyed the moment and lull him into a hormone-induced slumber. There would be no kisses or tangling of limbs in the final waves of their ecstasy.

There would only be pain and anger and blood, and Krieg was determined to make him pay his full share.

He palmed at the cooling puddle of jizz and smeared it across the man's chest, pressed it to his face, watched as he winced in disgust. He'd stopped his fight and given in, resigning himself to whatever had been planned for him. Which was fine with Krieg; he had no plan beyond this. The simple means to tear the man's ego - and asshole - apart, to let him know that he wasn't as untouchable as he made himself out to be. That there would always be someone out there who could take a piece of him and reduce it to a stain at the back of his mind.

Krieg's head rolled back as he continued to feel the blood bubbling around his member, his slicked hand pressed to the man's mouth to keep him quiet. This was his turn now and he didn't want it ruined with more attempted escapes and annoyed grunts. Fireworks popped and danced behind his eyes in a menagerie of colour as he felt himself approaching that end, reveled in the electricity that buzzed through his muscles and settled into a hot fiery ball beneath his navel. It grew and grew until it finally spilled over, the psycho going completely rigid. Ribbons of hot ejaculate filled the man, who hissed and grunted at the discomfort of his partner being balls-deep within him.

Krieg fell free with a pop! and watched the hot fluids spill to the floor. The man looked like a stuck pig, leaking freely and unable to do anything about it. The man's legs quivered as he rolled onto his side, and Krieg swore he heard him gag, the first notes of sickness.

 _Good_. _Let him puke his guts out_.

Without warning, the man swung his unruined hand at Krieg's eye. It gave birth to a small flash of sparks behind his lids. Not enough to stun him, but the adrenaline engorged his member with a new fire. It was a struggle for domination, a fight Krieg knew only he would win.

 _He wants to play this game, fine_.

A single swing of Krieg’s open palm cracked against Jack’s face and snapped his head to the left. His cheek was red and swollen, and a little blood dribbled out of his mouth. Krieg thumbed it away and tasted it. The metallic tang and the salt of the man's curdled jizz brought a smile to his face, and he spat it all onto his partner's cheek.

Krieg turned him over once more and jackhammered him senseless, Jack’s ass high in the air and his face flush with the floor. He'd had enough of viewing the man's face and seeing the contortions of his ecstasy written across it. Now he just wanted to have his way with him. To continue ruining him until there was nothing of his ego left.

It wasn't until a little after midnight that someone finally showed up for their shift and found the ruined Hyperion president within the padded cell, out of breath, bleeding, his hair ruined, and every muscle in his body on fire. His clothes had been reduced to nothing, his naked, sore form huddled in one corner, his knees hugged to his chest. The test subject was happily snoozing at the opposite end of the room, his energy spent.

Jack shivered with anger and disgust at how he'd been used and practically thrown away. He was going to make someone pay dearly for this, starting with that psycho in the corner. If he thought he had things bad now, then he didn't know the full extent of what Jack could do.

Once the attendant had him wrapped in a large towel and retrieved his things, Jack put a bullet right through his head and snagged the Echo device from the man's belt.

"Clean up in Cell 13. I've got some feed for the skags. And send me the report on our eridium reserves. I've got an idea," he said dryly and slammed the device down on the table. He was in desperate need of a drink. And a shower. But not before hobbling over to the control panel and erasing all the footage of that night's events.

 


End file.
